Just Stay
by everhtorne
Summary: 'You need to think about something else otherwise you're going to go insane. You decide to think about Dan; about how understanding he's been and how his hand around your shoulder, pulling you closer, makes you feel syrupy sweet inside.' A multi-chap imagine telling the story of your and Dan's friendship as you struggle with an eating disorder. Rated T for triggering content. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here is a thing I wrote forever ago. I thought I may as well post it here ^_^ Enjoy!**

******Warnings: trigger warning, mention of eating disorder, if you think this could be triggering in any way PLEASE don't read it. Message me any time if you need to.**

* * *

You've never been exactly fussy or longed for extravagant things – in your mind, hanging out with all afternoon and Dan and Phil's house is pretty much as good as life gets. Dan's been your best friend since pretty much forever and when he moved in with Phil, you were easily accepted by him as well. You never imagined that you'd make such amazing friends in life, since you've always pretty much been an anti-social loser who people had interest in befriending. After meeting Dan and then Phil, though, you were opened up to a whole world of amazing, hilariously sweet people who you now love more than anyone else in the world.

"Popcorn?" Dan asks, crunching loudly and shoving a bowl in your face.

"Shh!" Phil hisses, his intense gaze fixated on the TV screen which is flashing with bright colours and strangled screams as one of the main characters in the film you're watching dies.

You roll your eyes with a smirk, shaking your head at Dan to avoid making another sound to aggravate Phil. Dan sticks his tongue out at you, hugging the bowl back to his chest and continuing to devour the contents.

You've been lounging around their apartment for pretty much the entire day, helping Dan clear out his room and being forced to watch gruesome movies which you have no particular interest in. You don't mind, though. It's your favourite place to be.

It's only about thirty minutes later that the films finally draws to a close. You're on the verge of falling asleep, slumped against the back of the couch tiredly as Dan half pays attention to the screen and half tries to annoy you by flicking popcorn in your face and poking you in the side. Phil stays completely capitated by the DVD until the very end, waiting until the credits have finished rolling until he turns to you and Dan with an elated grin.

"That was awesome!" he breathes, waiting for you and Dan to have a similar reaction to him.

You kind of feel bad for him so you fake a smile and nod.

"Yep! Top quality drama."

Dan laughs at the falseness in your tone.

"Yeah, it was alright. The first one was better, though."

There's a gasp outrage from Phil as Dan's words.

"How can you say that?"

"Oh God," you mutter to yourself, sinking further into the sofa to avoid their droning movie-talk which always bores you to death. Personally, you have no interest in which fancy graphics are better or which actors give a better performance in periods of their life. "Guys, can you not?"

"I'm sorry but those death scenes were nothing compared to –"

"Ugh," you groan, mostly to yourself, closing your eyes and shutting off from the heated conversation which is sure to follow. You love them both, sure, but you don't have the energy to try and keep up with their silly argument.

As you lean backwards, wondering if you can maybe sleep for a while without them noticing, you feel your stomach churn sharply and let out a muted gurgle. You can't remember the last time you ate and your body is definitely beginning to feel it. You swallow, forcing yourself to get over it. You're so starved it's verging on painful but you know you deserve it.

"Look, you've made y/n die with your nerd talk," Dan comments in amusement, nudging Phil.

You look up at them and laugh, glaring at Dan pointedly.

"I'm not _dead_. Just bored. Have you guys kissed and made up yet? The movie was great, can we please move on?"

Dan and Phil shrug at each other, smirking.

"I guess," Phil decides grudgingly.

"Only for you," Dan agrees with a wink.

You snort, hauling yourself to your feet.

"Well, _thank_ you." You reach up to rub your temple as you feel a throbbing headache beginning to form there. "Right, what's next on the agenda, then?"

Phil turns and heads towards the kitchen, Dan on his heels.

"Lunch, I think. I'm starving."

Your heart rate quickens noticeably at his words, your eyes widening.

"Um –" you try to think of something to say.

"Yeah, me too," Dan interrupts you, flinging the cupboards open and grabbing out handfuls of ingredients to make a meal like a loaf of bread and spreadable butter.

"Aren't you guys full from all that popcorn?" you joke teasingly but your tone is hollow and tense.

"Me? Full?" Dan chuckles. "I thought you knew me."

"Popcorn with a movie hardly counts as a full meal," Phil adds as if you've suggested something ridiculous. "Do you want a sandwich?"

"I –," you cough and clear your throat, nervously. You can't say that you've already eaten because you've been at their apartment for hours and they know for a fact that you haven't. "I'm not really hungry, actually."

"Don't be stupid, you need to eat," Dan orders.

"Yeah, you weren't hungry last night," Phil frowns. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," you reply quickly, deciding that sometimes it's just easier to go along with it than provoke suspicions.

"You do look kind of pale," Phil continues. "Food is probably what you need, to be honest. I'll make you something. Do you want ham or cheese?"

You look away, your stomach flipping in anticipation of eating something. You feel sick.

"Whatever. I don't mind," you mutter, flopping down at the breakfast bar and deflating in defeat. You could pretend to receive an important call and leave – but that might be too obvious. There's not a whole lot you can do which makes you feel even more useless than normal.

"Don't be so pouty," Dan instructs, hip bumping you playfully as he manoeuvres his way around the kitchen. "I promise you can choose the movie next time."

You fake a smile and roll your eyes.

"Um, I think we'll have to discuss that first," Phil says in a worried tone which only makes you giggle.

"Chill out, Phil, I won't force you to endure some lame-ass chick flick, I promise."

Dan chuckles as he rummages through cupboards and sets out cutlery.

Phil flops down next to you a moment later, sliding a plate of food across the table to you with a smile. You force a smile back, inhaling the smell of fresh ham and butter and flinching because it smells _good_. You're so hungry, you're pretty sure that anything would smell good to you at that minute. The thought of it being shoved down your throat, however, is an entirely different matter altogether. It repulses you to the point that you can barely even look at the sandwich in front of you.

Dan sits down opposite you, already biting into his lunch hungrily. You look down, swallowing.

"Aren't you going to eat it then?" he asks, his tone light-hearted but the note of worry is easily detectable.

"Yeah, I swear I didn't spit it in it or anything," Phil jokes, much more carefree than Dan seems to be.

You choke out a laugh, inwardly cursing Dan for being so observant. Hopefully he'll just think you're sick or something.

"Just because I don't inhale my food like you two," you tease, which seems to ease the slight edge of tension which was threatening to grow in the room.

You pick up the sandwich with two hands and take a huge bite, figuring that if you're going to have to eat the damn thing you may as well get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Mm, we should go and see that new apocalypse movie at the weekend," Phil comments between mouthfuls.

"Oh – yeah! The one with Seth Rogan? That looks awesome," Dan agrees.

The conversation starts up between them easily but you're too wrapped up in your own thoughts to pay much attention to what's going on. All you can focus on is the gloopy mush in your mouth which you're tempted to spit out there and then. You take a gulp of water to force it down, feeling disgusting already. You sense it settling in the pit of your empty stomach – making you fatter. It physically weighs you down.

Dan and Phil are taking longer to eat because, yet again, they've managed to clash in their opinion over something or other and are doing more talking than actually eating. It only takes you a matter of minutes until your sandwich is gone and you feel bloated and ill.

"I'm just going to use the bathroom," you mutter, pushing the empty plate away from yourself.

"Sure," Dan grunts, barely looking up.

They're so engrossed in their conversation that they barely even notice you leave, thank God.

You hurry down the hallway and up the stairs, choosing to use the bathroom on the second floor to ensure that you're out of earshot for definite. Once you get there, you slam the door behind you and collapse on your knees, shuffling over to the toilet and batting the lid open.

"Oh God, oh God," you breathe, yearning to get the contents of the meal out of your system so badly that it's painful. You know that it doesn't even get digested for around an hour but you don't care. You need it out _now_.

Taking a breath, you shove your hair out of your face and lean over the basin, thrusting your fingers down your throat until you begin to retch. It only takes a second more for you to vomit; rancid liquid pouring out of your mouth bitterly. Your throat burns and your eyes water but at the same time you feel good, _so_ good. You feel cleansed of all that gunk.

You finish, spitting the last of it into the toilet and resting your cheek against the porcelain. You take a few gulps of air to regulate your breathing and push yourself up off of the ground, flushing the chain as you do so.

"Ugh," you complain, rinsing your mouth out with water from the tap to get rid of the taste of bile. You wash your hands and splash your face to guarantee that there are no visible traces of what you've just done. You smile half-heartedly at your reflection in the mirror. "Much better," you announce, feeling empty again. Then your eyes pan down to the rest of your body where all you can make out is a wide, figureless shape with excess fat everywhere. You glower and quickly cast your eyes away from the hideous sight. "But not good enough," you sigh.

You wipe your face with a towel one last time before marching out of the room and down the stairs into the comfort of Dan and Phil's familiar presence. They're not in the kitchen where you left them but you can hear bickering from the living room so you head over there, plastering a smile on your face. It's a wasted effort because neither of them even look up when you enter, their attention held by the violent videogame that is displayed on the TV screen. They sit side by side with matching expressions of determination and competitiveness.

"Hey," you say, sitting down in the free armchair.

"Hi," Phil returns distractedly.

"Hey y/n, whose avatar do you think looks better?" asks Dan eagerly.

You laugh and groan at the same time. Neither one of them seem to notice any change in you whatsoever which makes you sigh in relief. The pleasant mood from earlier continues as you settle back into the usual routine of mock arguing and genuinely annoying the crap out of each other. Maybe that's why you love spending time at Dan and Phil's so much. Sometimes it's just nice to escape the shittiness of your own reality and be around people who don't judge you or question you. They just made you laugh and force you to play their stupid videogames with them.

They may be your closest friends but you can't help but be thankful that they don't know what you're really like.


	2. Chapter 2

p class="MsoNormal"You roll over in bed and groan, wincing when your stomach twists sharply in pain like you're being stabbed repeatedly. It's hard to breathe properly but you force yourself to inhale and exhale heavy gulps of air until the tightness in your chest relaxes a little./p  
p class="MsoNormal"You're used to this. It's become the way you wake up most days, your throat dry and your stomach heaving. You know it's worth the pain and feeling crap, though. You emknow/em you have to get over it because the alternative is far, far worse./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Clambering out of bed, it only takes a few seconds for you to decide that you don't really have the strength or energy to go out today. You're in your gap year from uni – doesn't that mean you're entitled to having multiple lie-ins and days doing nothing? Staying in bed all day or maybe curled up on the couch in front of a movie sounds pretty ideal. Well, until the piercing phone ringtone starts up, that is. You trudge over to where it's resting in the cradle, your head still slightly dizzy./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Hello?" you say tiredly after hitting the answer button. You hope it's just one of those stupid telemarketing people that you can hang up on because you can't really be bothered to have an in-depth conversation with anyone./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Hey!" the voice on the other end of the line greets cheerily, the low husky tone easily detectable as Dan./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Well Dan is different. You never mind talking to him./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Oh – hi," you answer in surprise, smiling to yourself./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Are you alright? You sound kind of – off," he asks in concern./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Uh, I was just asleep, that's all."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Ah right, sorry if I woke you!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""No, no you're fine," you insist. "So, what's up?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"You walk back over to the bed and collapse backwards as you speak, running a hand through your hair. You don't even feel that ill anymore./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I was thinking, if you don't have anything else on, maybe you could come over and help me shoot a video or if you don't want to do that we could just watch a movie or something? Whatever you want. But you don't have to or anything."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"You almost laugh at his sweetness but find yourself nodding in spite of your exhausted state./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Sure! I mean, that sounds awesome."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Great!" he grins in relief. "Well, I'm literally at home all day so you can come round whenever."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Okay," you reply eagerly, "I'll be there soon then."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Perfect," Dan agrees happily. "See you in a bit!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"You smile and tell him goodbye before hanging up the line. You always manage to find yourself in a good mood when you're speaking to Dan, no matter what the circumstances./p  
p class="MsoNormal"It takes more effort than you'd like but you trail out of the room with a heaving sigh, beginning to get ready to leave the house. Your smile drains away as you catch a glimpse of your face in the mirror when you pass; your hair is a bird's nest, dark shadows under your eyes, your skin dull and sallow. You're reluctant to leave the house, knowing that you look as gross as you do. It takes all of the little energy that you possess to get dressed and yank your hair back into a ponytail so that you look at least slightly presentable. You throw on your old jeans and a baggy jumper – something that may not be as cute as the outfits that other girls wear, but those things only make you look like an idiot and feel especially self-conscious anyway./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Ignoring the vague sense of sickness still lingering and the unwillingness to go outside, you grab a bag and jog down the stairs until you're standing in the pale morning sunshine, inhaling the scent of newly cut grass from your neighbours. You jump into the car and head down the empty roads – it takes no longer than five minutes for you to pull up outside Dan and Phil's. You feel so much more at home here in this area than in your empty house where you spend most nights alone and depressed. Dan opens the front door before you've even had a chance to get out of the car, standing in the entrance to the house, beaming./p  
p class="MsoNormal"You roll your eyes because he's like an excitable child sometimes, not that you mind. Grinning, you haul yourself into the street and dance up the pathway leading to the door until you practically throw yourself into Dan's arms with a laugh./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Hey!" you cry./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Hi," he chuckles back, placing you down and hip-bumping the door closed./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Why are you so excited?" you question him with a smirk as you being making your way further down the hall./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I like seeing you, is that a crime?" he retorts with a nonchalant shrug./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I saw you, like, two days ago."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"He glares at you, trying to come up with a logical comeback to that and failing./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Shut up," he finally laughs, rolling his eyes./p  
p class="MsoNormal"You snort and glance around you, listening out but only hearing silence./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Where's Phil?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Out," Dan replies, taking your arm and leading you up the stairs whilst talking./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Your brows furrow, an outraged pout forming on your lips./p  
p class="MsoNormal""emThat's/em why you want me here, because Phil isn't around to help you with your video? So you're basically just using me? I'm a replacement Phil, aren't I?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"He rolls his eyes./p  
p class="MsoNormal""emNo/em, I wanted to see you as well," he defends./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Sure you did. You just need someone to assist with your filming antics."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Let's just get on with this," he sighs, trying to mask his amusement but you can see straight through it. He knows you're only teasing anyway – you're always willing to help out when he needs you./p  
p class="MsoNormal"You reach your destination at last; the small patch of landing outside of Dan's bedroom where he's shooting a short scene for a video. You've helped him out on countless occasions before so it doesn't take long for you to get to grips with what he's asking. It's not hard anyway – all you really have to do is focus the camera repeatedly and check the lighting for him until everything looks as he desires for it to. You find it kind of hard not to laugh when he does stupid things like rolling around on the floor and you find yourself watching with a smile as you see how animated he is when he's talking to his YouTube audience. And, of course, you mock him when it comes to shooting the Sexy End Screen Dance but that's something that he's used to./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Stop laughing!" he commands but he's struggling to contain himself as well./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I'm sorry," you murmur, biting on your lip in attempt to keep a straight face./p  
p class="MsoNormal"He tries again but pauses before he's really gotten into it./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I can't do this with you here," he decides with a defeated laugh, giving up. "I guess I'll just use a generic nebula background. I doubt anyone will even notice the difference."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""No!" you exclaim in protest. "You can't deny your viewers of their weekly thrusting. That's just mean."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"He shakes his head in entertainment at the silliness of your words and grins but doesn't argue./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Okay, emfine/em. But emno/em laughing."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"You pretend to seal your lips with a zip, promising to stay silent as he reshoots the ending screen. You actually manage to make it to the end without laughing, which you're kind of proud about. It's a definite challenge to keep your mouth shut when Dan is pointing a camera at his crotch. You feel your heart rate pick up slightly as you watch him./p  
p class="MsoNormal"He finally finishes up after only a short time. You're impressed by how quickly he can go from messing around with you to filming seriously – it's a quality that you definitely do not possess. When he's happy with the mornings work, the camera is tucked away in his room, the backlights taken down and the props pushed into boxes and cupboards./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Finished," he declares happily. "Thank you so much for helping."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Am I just the best friend ever, or what?" you inquire as you make your way down the stairs, Dan on your heels./p  
p class="MsoNormal"You hear him chuckle lowly./p  
p class="MsoNormal""You sure are."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"You turn to wink at him, whirling off into the kitchen where you know he'll probably want to go. He follows swiftly, walking over to the sink and pouring out two glasses of water then gulping one down to himself. He shoves the other one across to you as you take a seat at the breakfast bar in exhaustion. Filming stupid videos is definitely more tiring work than you often give Dan credit for./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Thanks," you mutter gratefully, sipping on your own drink until you feel a little more refreshed. When you look up, Dan's eyes are fixated on you and he seems even more thrilled than usual. "What?" you wonder curiously, a tinge of worry seeping into your tone./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I have a surprise for you," he announces./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Your eyes widen but you don't get the chance to say anything before he hops over to the fridge, almost ripping the door from its hinges. He digs around for a few seconds and pulls out a cold plate, a vast cake placed atop it. Your jaw drops. It looks almost professionally made, a thick even layer of chocolate buttercream coating the entire thing, a tower of sprinkles and loopy icing. You feel a cold trickle down your spine like melted ice./p  
p class="MsoNormal""What are you - ?" you don't know what to say./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I made it myself."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"You can't decide which question to ask first./p  
p class="MsoNormal""For me?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Yeah!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""emWhy/em?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""To apologise for always forcing you to watch movies with me and Phil that you don't want to," he explains, grinning. "I promise next time we hang out we'll do whatever you want to do."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Oh my God," you try to laugh but it gets stuck in your throat. "I emlike/em watching movies with you and Phil! You really didn't have to do that."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""I wanted to," he insists lightly. "I kind of suck at cooking, though, so don't expect it to actually be edible."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"You shake your head./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Well… thanks," you say, hoping that you sound sincere. Honestly, you just feel sick to your stomach at the sight of it which sucks because you know he was only trying to do something sweet./p  
p class="MsoNormal""It's no problem," he smiles. "Let's have some now! I'm starving."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"You look up at him, panic burning behind your eyes. Not emagain./em/p  
p class="MsoNormal""N-now?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Yeah, why not?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Uh, I already ate before I came here."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""So? You're allowed a little bit of cake in between meals, it will be good for you." He gestures to your body and you immediately feel self-conscious. "I mean, there's practically nothing to you anyway."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Are you blind?" you mutter under your breath but luckily he doesn't seem to hear./p  
p class="MsoNormal""And I made it especially! Come on, you have to."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Dan – "/p  
p class="MsoNormal""I'll make it a small slice, if it makes you happy," he vows and that seems to be the end of that discussion./p  
p class="MsoNormal"All you can do is watch on in horror as he gets two plates out of the cupboard and a large knife which he uses to cut into the pristine cake on the counter. You look away and swallow uncomfortably, refraining from saying anything else which would only lead to suspicions. He keeps to his word and makes your slice only small. But it's still not small enough./p  
p class="MsoNormal"You smile over at him as he tucks into his own portion, the smell enough to overwhelm you. The first bite you take is hard to keep down. It tastes so rich and it's been so long since you last ate that you almost gag. There's no way you can let Dan know that, though; you force a smile and try not to eat it too quickly or too slowly so that he isn't offended./p  
p class="MsoNormal""This is great," you mumble, your voice thick./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Well it's better than I was expecting, that's for sure," Dan comments through his mouthful, clearly impressed by his own skills./p  
p class="MsoNormal"You're polite and make sure that you wait until Dan has finished until you excuse yourself. You let at least ten minutes pass to avoid looking suspicious./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I just need to pee," you tell him finally, sliding off the seat and pushing the plate away from you a little./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Dan gets a concerned little crease on his forehead but doesn't protest./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Okay, sure."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"You're feeling so vile and repulsed by your own actions that you don't even bother worrying about whether he can see you or not as you practically run down the hallway, shoving the door of the downstairs bathroom back and slamming it behind you. You should probably have gone upstairs but you're not sure how much longer you're able to keep the damn cake down./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Throwing the lid open, you barely remember to pull your hair out of your face before you're puking into the toilet violently. You're loud and pretty much as unladylike as it gets but there's no way you can even think about caring about that. You just need to focus on emptying your stomach before the sugar gets into your system dangerously./p  
p class="MsoNormal"It's times like this that you hate yourself more than ever. You can't stand the person you've become. Yet, you can't stop. You can't bring yourself to get up off the ground and return to Dan and eat his cake like a good friend would. You can't prevent the violent burning in your throat, the sense of relief that washes over you so strongly that you almost pass out./p  
p class="MsoNormal"It only takes a few minutes until your stomach is nearly empty again and you're panting for breath, your hands trembling slightly. You lean forwards and heave once more but little comes up. You just feel so emdisgusting/em./p  
p class="MsoNormal"As you dry-retch into the basin, you're hardly aware of your surroundings. So when Dan's voice appears out of nowhere, you're more than a little startled./p  
p class="MsoNormal""What are you doing?" he squeaks from behind you, making you flinch sharply in shock./p  
p class="MsoNormal"You turn and see the door halfway open because fuck, fuck, fuck, you forgot to lock it. All the colour is drained from his face, his jaw unhinged and his eyes bulging. He looks as if he's about to be sick himself./p  
p class="MsoNormal"emThis can't be happening. There is /emno wayem this is happening/em. You stare at him wearing a matching mask of astonishment, your breathing heavy./p  
p class="MsoNormal"emDan /emcannotem see me like this!/em You've tried emso/em hard to keep this side of you from him because you're so ashamed. You want to look away or maybe run. You don't want to face his judgmental stare, his horrified eyes – but at the same time you can't look away. You can practically see the truth of the situation settling over him like a layer of tar./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Oh my God, please tell me this isn't what I think it is," he chokes out, looking down at you in repulsion./p  
p class="MsoNormal"You wipe your mouth and burst into tears./p 


	3. Chapter 3

You can't take your eyes off of your clasped hands in your lap as you sit on the sofa in Dan's living room. You stopped crying a while ago now, but your face is still red and tear-stained. It's hard to remember how to breathe properly, staring at your trembling fingers and forcing yourself to inhale and exhale regularly.

Dan's standing opposite you, pacing. The horror-stricken frown on his face only seems to be growing deeper and deeper as you sit, attempting to control your breathing and refusing to look at him, let alone speak. You should probably say something but you can't seem to find your voice. Your head is woozy and cloudy, your throat aching. You can't even comprehend how much you want a meteor to fall and land on you at that exact moment – anything is better than facing Dan's harsh, expectant gaze. He hates you, you know it. You don't blame him.

When it becomes clear that you're not planning on opening your mouth any time soon out of choice, Dan stops is pacing with a flustered sigh, turning to face you. You don't look up at him, focusing on your feet, tracing the lines of the wood-panelled floor as a distraction.

"So you have an eating disorder?" he finally asks in a low, stressed voice. "That's what this is, right?"

You snap your head up, feeling a surge of self-protectiveness.

"No!" you exclaim, defending yourself. "I mean, maybe." You bite on your lip, hanging your head. You've never exactly thought about it in too much detail. You've never really thought that you had a _disorder_. The words make you feel ill and even more disgusting than usual. "I'm sorry," you choke out, tears unexpectedly pooling in your eyes and spilling out hopelessly. You wish you could stop crying. It only makes you look even more pathetic.

Dan's expression softens and he instantly hurries over the sofa, sitting carefully down next to you and hugging you close. You bury your head in his shoulder, blocking out the harsh artificial light in the room which is making you feel dizzy. He's so warm and comforting; you can't help but hold onto him tightly.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" he murmurs into your hair, his tone strained and so deeply confused it's ridiculous. "_Why_?"

You wish you could answer but when you open your mouth no sound comes out other than a sob of despair. Your tears only begin to fall faster, your crying louder and more desperate than before. You can't stop your entire frame from shaking violently.

He pulls away a little to look at you properly. You try to stop crying but end up sniffling pitiably like a child. Dan's eyes are wide and full of concern.

"When did this start?" he questions you.

You swallow, wiping at your face.

"Dan, can we please just not talk about this. Just forget it ever happened –"

"Like hell I'm going to forget it happened! You need help!"

When you speak again it's through clamped teeth, your voice tight.

"I'm _fine_."

He ignores you, continuing.

"We need to get you to a doctor, we need to tell –"

"_No_!" you cut him off in a shriek, grabbing onto his arm and digging your nails in. You yank him close to you so he can't move anywhere, your heart hammering in your chest violently. "You can't tell _anyone_!"

The terror seeping into your words is clear as day. Dan gapes at you.

"y/n, I _have_ to!"

"_Dan_!" you wail in utter desperation, the tears restarting. A horrified sob tears its way out of your chest as you collapse onto him in a teary mess, your lips trembling. "_Please_! Please, please, please! You _can't_! I'm _fine_!"

You can barely get the words out through your brutal sobbing. He doesn't say anything for a moment, rubbing your back soothingly and patting you like you're an infant. You feel sick and stupid and wish you could just die there and then. You think that he realises that arguing with you is pointless right now because you're clearly scared out of your mind, so he just remains silent, waiting until your tears subside slightly. You continue sniffling and shuddering for a lot longer than you thought was possible but eventually begin to wear yourself out, the tears drying up slightly. Dan keeps you huddled close until you're all cried out and exhausted from your own stupidity.

Eventually he grabs you up off of the sofa like he's guiding a dog, holding a hand around your waist in case you collapse or something. You let him lead you, shaking and feeling unsteady on your feet. The tears may have subsided but that doesn't mean you feel any better. You just don't have any energy left to cry anymore, that's all.

When you reach the top of the staircase, Dan takes your numb hand in his and pulls you along to his bedroom, kicking the door back abruptly. You wander inside slowly, wiping your sore nose. The bed looks so cosy and nice and, to be honest, you are kind of sleepy – so when Dan nudges you forwards towards it, you can't help clambering up onto the big double mattress and enveloping yourself in the duvet covers.

"I think you may be in shock or something," Dan admits sheepishly, tucking you in and rubbing your shoulders. You hadn't realised how badly you're shaking – like you've just been electrocuted or something. "You should try and sleep for a while. We'll talk tomorrow."

He attempts to smile at the end of his sentence but it gets stuck. He looks like he's trying to hold back tears of his own. Your hand shoots out of the bed and hooks onto his wrist just as he's pulling away, gripping him deathly tight once more.

"Dan," you hiss croakily, "you _can't_ tell anyone. Promise me you won't."

He glances away for a moment, clearly uncomfortable. You can tell he doesn't want to agree but then again he doesn't want to hurt you. He's sweet like that – always giving you what you want. You almost start crying again at how lucky you are to have him.

"I promise," he sighs reluctantly. You don't know how honest he's actually being but there's not much else you can do. You can already feel your brain beginning to switch off; your body's automatic reaction to the traumatic events of tonight. "I won't tell anyone. Just go to sleep."

You want to argue but the idea of losing consciousness for a while is much more inviting. As your eyes drift closed, the last thing you see is Dan's haunting grimace and horrified expression and you kind of wish your eyes don't open in the morning.

* * *

"Oh God," are the first slurred words you groan when you wake up a while later, your head groggy and confused.

You blink and wait for your surroundings to slowly come into focus. The musky, familiar scent of Dan that clings to his bedclothes around you is a little overwhelming. It's like waking up from a hard night of partying in a stranger's bed. The same sense of gut-wrenching guilt washes over you like icy liquid. Only instead of a stranger it's your best friend Dan and instead of getting manically drunk and doing something embarrassing or irresponsible he found you puking your guts out in his bathroom. Awesome.

You replay the night before over and over in your mind, growing increasingly mortified by the second. You know it was absolutely awful and, as much as you'd like to hope that it was some kind of sick nightmare, you can't even begin to convince yourself that that's the case. You have to face reality, you have to face _him_. The thought makes you bury your face in your hands in disgust.

Dan knows. He _knows_.

You groan aloud at the thought, wanting to punch yourself in the face. Why couldn't you just have been more careful?

With a sigh, you decide that you have to get on with it at some point or another, as depressing as it may be. You sit up in bed, shoving your hair out of your face.

"Dan?" you call; your voice is scratchy from being out of use for so long.

He appears a few moments later in the doorway of his room. He's wearing a crumpled T-shirt and his hair is even messier than usual. It suddenly occurs to you that you don't know where he slept last night.

"You're awake." He seems relieved for some reason.

"Yeah."

He walks further into the room and perches on the side of the bed next to where you're sitting, still under the covers. You wince a little because you've only just woken up so you must look like a complete mess, without any makeup or having had a chance to brush your hair at all.

"I'm sorry –" you begin but he raises his hand in the air to silence you.

"_Stop_ apologising," he instructs. You wish you could. "It's _okay_. _I'm_ sorry for not realising it sooner."

You roll your eyes because him finding out about your habits any sooner would definitely not have helped the situation. He takes a breath, looking down at you.

"Have you changed your mind about going to a doctor?"

He sounds much more hopeful than he should have been.

"_No_." Just the idea of going to some doctor or therapist makes you shudder. You're _fine_. Why doesn't anyone believe that?

He shuts his eyes briefly as if he's holding in a groan.

"I thought as much." He sighs. "You're ill."

"Don't patronise me," you mutter.

"Look, you need help."

"I don't."

"You do! You _know_ you do." He sounds very, very tired. "It will make you better."

"Who says I _want_ to get better?" you snap. Instantly you regret the words but there's nothing you can do to take them back. You take a deep breath, clenching your fists. "Dan _please_ can you just drop it? Please."

He looks away in frustration.

"_Fine_." He physically deflates in defeat. "Fine. I can't force you. I'm not going to give up, though." You frown at that but don't bite your tongue in case it starts up another argument. "Anyway, in the meantime, I've spoken to Phil and –"

"_What_?!" you squawk in dread. "I told you not to tell anyone! You _promised_!"

You knew he wouldn't keep to his word. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

"It's just _Phil_, come on!" he protests. "I was never going to keep it from him."

You cover your face with your hands, thinking about how much Phil must be judging you right now. He probably hates you as much as Dan does. You're going to lose _everyone_ over this, you can tell. You feel like screaming.

"Anyway," Dan continues exasperatedly, "I was talking to Phil and he agreed with me that you should move in with us."

"Excuse me?" you choke.

"Either that or we move in with you. If you refuse to go to hospital, this is the very _least_ that has to be done. For now."

You gape.

"What are you talking about?!"

Dan shrugs, acting as if it's no big thing but you can tell he's apprehensive of your reaction.

"You need to be looked after."

"I'm not a fucking child, Dan! No _way_ is that happening! _No_."

"Yes it is! I'm not giving you a choice, sorry."

You can't believe him. You feel your nostrils flaring in fury.

"_No_, Dan."

"Yes!"

"_No_," you hiss.

"It's already been decided!"

"You can't make me!"

Dan seems as tense as you, his breaths turning into growls.

"It's for your own good! And I told you, I'm not taking no for an answer!"

You glower at him for a few moments, absolutely fuming. Why is he treating you like some kind of mental person? You can take care of yourself without him! As you have an intense stare off, you can see from the hard edge to his usual melting chocolate eyes and the set line of his mouth that he's not about to change his mind.

"I hate you," you spit venomously, not caring that you're being a bitch.

You start to cry. You don't even mean to but you're so goddamn _angry_. Furious, bitter tears seep out of your eyes and dribble down your cheeks as you slowly crumble under his firm gaze.

Dan sighs, getting up and looking at you for a moment. He doesn't say anything, he simply turns and walks towards the door, pausing in the entrance to look back at you once. You refuse to meet his gaze, slowly falling into an abyss of gasping resentful sobs. He turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him with a click.

You can't begin to process the way you've just acted towards him or the fact that you're staining his sheets with salty tears. All you can think about is the fact that, what with Dan watching over your shoulder everywhere you go, your opportunities to purge will be next to none.

And there's just no way you can survive like that.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: sorry it's taken so long!**

* * *

Dan doesn't waste time.

He drives you back home that same day to help you pack your stuff up. He waited until the late morning when you seem to have sulked enough for one day and are starting to get over yourself. You're still mad at him, he knows that. But he also knows that you don't have any valid argument against him and he definitely isn't going to cave any time soon. And to be honest, out of the two options that he gave you, you'd definitely rather move in with Dan and Phil than have them move in with you. You can't imagine them in your grotty house with the unwashed stacks of dishes and unsorted belongings surrounding them. It just seems wrong.

So Dan badgers you to get dressed and get up which you eventually give in to, albeit begrudgingly. Your hair is a tangled mess, your face patchy and red from crying. As you appraise yourself in the mirror – a task that you try to avoid as much as possible – you can barely focus on anything other than your eyes; hard and haunted, dark shadows surrounding them. You look like death.

Still, you never look much better so what's the difference? You shrug it off, too tired to care, and trudge down the stairs to where Dan is waiting. He looks as tired as you feel and you don't blame him. You imagine that having to deal with a messed up idiot like you must be hard work. You really, really wish he wouldn't bother.

"Ready?" he asks, forcing a smile for you. You can see the worry behind his eyes, though; unmissable, deep-rooted concern flashing in the back of his mind as he looks over you. You wonder what he must see. Some kind of freak, a loser. Something along those lines.

You just nod, not trusting your voice. You haven't spoken to him properly since earlier. It makes you cringe when you think over the conversation you had – the bitter words you spat at him, hateful and scared. You're sorry for being so harsh, you are, but you stand by the fact that, best friend or not, he needs to _back off_.

You trail after him, clambering into his recently-bought second-hand car which is small and stuffy and smells faintly of tobacco and breath mints. The seat is lumpy and worn and all kinds of uncomfortable, the headrest too high for you to lean against properly. Dan drives you to your place, mostly in silence. You're too scared to talk and you think he is too. What is there to say? He knows what a nutcase you are and you know how much he hates you and that's that. Nothing else to discuss. It's only about a fifteen minute drive but after only five have passed, the tense atmosphere becomes too much and you clear your throat awkwardly. Dan looks over at you, presenting you with that forced, false smile again, full of unease and pity. It almost makes you glower at him but you control yourself before you start another unnecessary argument.

"I didn't mean what I said earlier," you sigh, feeling ashamed now that you're actually addressing the issue aloud. "I don't hate you. I could never. I mean, you're my best friend." The last part comes out slightly hopefully like you're not sure if it's true anymore. You don't know if he still _wants_ to be friends.

He smiles at you. It's only small but it actually seems genuine for the first time in a while; dimples and crinkled eyes.

"I know."

You don't say anything else for the rest of the journey but feel a bit better. He still hasn't disowned you completely which you find shocking. He hasn't bolted from the car or told you to leave. You can't understand why.

When you finally arrive at your house and wander inside, you only feel eager to leave as soon as possible. It's exactly as you remember; dreary and depressing and dark. It just reminds you of cold nights spent alone, crying in your room. You shove piles of junk aside as you step further in, beckoning Dan inside. You've only allowed Dan into your house a few times, long ago and when he insisted. You hate having people over – always suggesting that the gatherings are held at someone else's place to spare you the embarrassment. You see the sense of judgement pass over his features as he takes in the unsanitary mess that you live in but he's quick to compose himself.

As you walk around and begin to pack things into the bag that Dan gave to you, you realise that you don't actually have many belongings. Not many that you care about, anyway. You head to the bedroom, gesturing for Dan to stay where he is, and try to fill the bag as quickly as possible. You grab the first things you see; handfuls of clothes, toiletries and makeup, some books for good measure. You're about to ask Dan how long you're supposed to be packing for but then it occurs to you that he'll probably say something like 'until you're better' which makes you shudder in fear. So you don't bother asking.

You emerge from the room to see Dan standing in the exact same spot he had been in before, hands dangling at his sides awkwardly.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do anything?" he questions you, glancing around.

"No," you answer instantly, almost a snap but not quite as harsh. "No, it's fine. I'm done, anyway."

He looks down at the half-empty bag in your grip and frowns.

"That's it? Are you sure? You're going to need –"

"This is all I want," you cut him off, absolutely.

He shrugs 'okay' and takes the bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder. You exhale in relief as you step back over the threshold, thankful to be finished. You slam the door behind you. Dan holds the car door open at you, a hint of a reassured smile playing on his lips as well. You thought that packing up your stuff to move in with Dan and Phil would make it seem more official and scare the heck out of you but honestly, you've ended up just being grateful for Dan's company and the fact that he's going to such extreme lengths to look out for you. You still don't get it, but it's nice.

The journey home is silent again but more comfortable this time. By the time you pull up outside Dan and Phil's, you heart rate is almost back to normal. As soon as you get inside the apartment, Dan hitches the bag higher on his shoulder and begins heading up the staircase immediately.

"What are you doing?" you ask, taking a tentative step after him. Does he want you to follow or –?

"I'm just going to sort out the spare room for you," he explains briefly. "Unless you want to keep sleeping in my bed?"

He says it as a joke and chuckles himself but you can only swallow and look at your feet.

"Well, obviously not." You don't think you've ever even seen Dan and Phil's spare room. You guess they don't use it much. "Do you want a hand?"

"No, no you're alright," he swears, jogging up the stairs and disappearing before you can say that you want to unpack your own things.

You sigh, looking around. You don't know why you're so nervous all of a sudden – you spend enough of your time and Dan and Phil's apartment so you don't know what's changed. Still, you can't help the nervous shiver than runs down your spine as you stand stupidly at the foot of the stairs.

You hear movement in the kitchen and decide that you may as well head over there. When you stroll around the corner, seeming casual although you're practically shaking, you see Phil sitting at the breakfast bar, his fringe flopping into his eyes as he leans over a coffee in front of him. You feel incredibly awkward.

He smiles warmly when you enter and doesn't start hurling abuse at you as you were half-expecting, which is always a good start.

"Hey," he greets you, gesturing to the bar in front of him where you sit down slowly, reluctantly. "Coffee?"

You half-smile, shaking you head. Honestly, the smell makes your stomach churn.

"No. Thank you."

Phil is biting his lip uneasily as if he feels as nervous as you. You want to start a conversation but you don't know how. You try to smile but it comes out like a mangled grimace. _Just say something_, you order yourself impatiently, wishing that for once in your life you weren't so pathetic.

"I know that you know," you say finally, your voice quiet and small. "It's okay."

You look up at him and see him breathe out in comfort at your words.

"Look, I don't expect you to talk to me about it or anything like that," he explains in a rush, clasping and unclasping his hands. "Dan didn't go into specifics or anything, but I just want you to know that I don't think differently of you at all. I just want you to feel at home here – or as at home as you can be. Me and Dan and everyone else – we'll always be here for you. I just want to make sure you know that."

You get up off of your seat when he stops talking, walking over to where he's sitting and hugging him tightly, unable to help your heartened smile. When you pull back, he's grinning. You suddenly feel a lot better.

"Thank you," you sigh. "Seriously."

"Anytime." He pauses. "Dan only wants what's best for you, you know that right?"

You cast your eyes down to the nearly empty coffee mug on the table, avoiding Phil's intense gaze.

"I know."

There's a shuffle of moment and when you look up, Dan's standing in the doorway of the room, smiling lopsidedly.

Phil gets up from his seat, glancing between you and Dan.

"Okay, I'll leave you guys to it," Phil announces, making his way out of the kitchen. "I've got some editing to do, anyway."

"Sure. See you later," you nod, sharing a private smile with him as he leaves. You can't quite get over the fact that he doesn't want to chuck you out. Don't they realise that you aren't worth their time?

You watch him go, waiting until you can hear the clomping of his footsteps on the stairs before turning to Dan. He steps towards you, seeming slightly tenser than you were expecting. You haven't done anything too horrific for a while – why does he look so worried? Your brows furrow in confusion as you assess him.

"Everything good up there?" you ask, gesturing to the ceiling where the spare room lies above.

"Yeah, everything's all set up for you." His voice seems off, somehow, despite the fact that there's nothing wrong with what he's saying.

You ignore that, closing the space between you.

"Thank you, Dan. For all of this."

He smiles initially but it quickly fades into a frown. He clears his throat.

"Now for the hard bit," he declares.

You narrow your eyes wonderingly. Haven't the past few days been hard enough?

"What now?" you inquire, arching an eyebrow.

He swallows and looks right at you with a determined glint in his eyes. He places his hands on his hips.

"Lunch time."


	5. Chapter 5

You swallow.

"Dan, no," you mumble, feeling your throat closing up. You want to punch something. How stupid of you to think that things could stay alright between you and Dan for any longer than it has already.

"Come on, all that packing must have made you hungry – at least a bit." He says it lightly as if it's a normal conversation to be having, ignoring your reaction to his words.

You shake your head adamantly even though your stomach rolls in anticipation at the thought of food. You can't remember the last time you ate.

"y/n, come on."

"No," you say, hoping to sound fierce and definite but it comes out quiet and watery. You look away from him.

"You're eating," he tells you hardly, losing the friendly tone.

"I'm not," you almost growl back.

You marvel over how strange it is not to have to make up excuses as to why you don't want to eat – no '_I'm not hungry_' or '_I already had lunch_' or '_I'm not feeling great_'. It's so bizarre for you to think about how Dan actually knows the truth about you. You always figured that if he ever found out he wouldn't stick around.

Dan turns his back to you and walks over to the kitchen cupboards, pulling out two plates and preparing the meal. You find it hard to look at him without gagging. He looks so determined, so sure that you're going to eat. You wish he could understand that it's just not a possibility. Your eyes flicker up to him as he bustles about in jerky, robotic movements. You can tell he's growing distressed but doesn't want to show it. You wait where you're standing, paralysed in place, until he places two plates down on the counter; one croissant for him and one for you, one packet of crisps each and some cheese. You watch him silently, your heart hammering. You can't eat that. You can't.

He sits down and gestures for you to follow, setting the plates of food down in front of you both. You hesitantly shuffle over and perch yourself in a chair at the breakfast bar, looking down and chewing on your lip. He slides you a glass of water which you take gratefully and gulp down until you're short of breath. You feel better already, your head clearer. Also, filling up on water to avoid eating happens to be one of your specialities.

Dan casts his eyes onto you, piercing and stern.

"Now eat."

He says it like it's some kind of order. You know that objectively he's only trying to help but his patronising tone only makes you tense, a growing, hot anger building in your chest.

"_No_," you reply, getting pissed off.

Dan shakes his head and starts with his own food but places it back down again after only one bite, seeming to have lost his appetite.

"Just a little bit," he begs, his eyes growing wide and desperate.

You cross your arms and ignore him, hoping that he gives up soon because you don't know how much more of this you can take. This is exactly why you didn't want to live with him.

"Please? _Please_, for me?"

You choke.

"Dan, I –"

"One crisp," he asks pleadingly, exasperated. "Come on, you have to!" he cries, getting worked up. You don't know what to say.

You shudder, keeping your eyes on your clasped hands in your lap and remaining mute. If there was something that you could do to make him happy you would. You're tempted to take the entire plate of food and shove the whole thing down your throat because at least then he wouldn't be looking at you as he is now; let down and bitterly frustrated. You just don't have that level of will power, though.

His penetrative gaze makes you grow hot with embarrassment. Just knowing that you're disappointing him makes you want to cry.

"I'm sorry," you murmur eventually, your voice no higher than a whisper, on the verge of tears.

Dan sighs and rakes a hand through his hair looking straight at you with tired, bloodshot eyes.

"We're going to get you through this," he says quietly, earnestly. "I promise."

Your lips quiver as he speaks, your fingers trembling. You'd like to hope so. But you're pretty sure that he'll get bored of you when he realises just how far from the truth that is.

* * *

If lunch was bad, dinner was worse.

Phil had left you and Dan alone again, probably purposely giving you as much space as possible around meal times. You appreciated that. Dan sets the food down at around eight, looking down at you with raised eyebrows like you're a small child. He looks tired and fed up and nowhere near as understanding as earlier.

"Eat it," he snaps.

The food smells so good and you're so hungry and you don't know if you have the energy to have another argument with Dan.

So you eat it.

Well, some of it. Kind of. You pick at it, chewing on potatoes and vegetables in between gulps of water. You imagine that it's just a regular night round at Dan and Phil's where you have to pretend to be normal. You shove the food down your throat until it burns and your mouth is full of gloopy mush and you're on the verge of gagging. You manage to chow through just about half of the dinner that Dan prepared before shoving the plate away from you and finishing your drink. You look down at yourself, at your body, as if you can see it expanding already. When you glance up again, Dan is smiling – beaming straight at you like some kind of proud parent. He doesn't say much because he knows you hate it when he's patronising but you can feel the pride and happiness radiating off of him like shafts of violet, golden light.

"Thank you," he says after a while, lowly. He sounds so relieved it almost hurts to hear.

You can't appreciate it, though. Not when you feel so disgusting and revolted by yourself. You don't answer him, waiting until he turns to tidy the plates away before you slap a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to keep it down for just a little longer. You need to wait until he's left you alone before you can purge but it's hard when your body's natural instinct is to get this crap out of your system _now_.

When everything's cleared away, Dan ushers you into the living room where the TV and warm couch are waiting. You trudge along with clomping footsteps, as if you're heavier already. You shake your head once to yourself, praying that you get a grip before you vomit all over the carpet. You feel vile.

You keep it together until Dan turns to find the TV remote and you take advantage of his distractedness to spin on your heel and creep out of the room, tip-toing as silently as you can. Dan notices, of course. You've only managed to take a few steps before he's walking over to where you are, a quizzical look plastered on his exhausted face. His smile from earlier has vanished.

"Where are you going?"

You force yourself to look natural, attempting to smile.

"Uh, I just need to pee," you announce, lying unconvincingly.

He frowns, coming a little closer.

"Really?" he asks, sarcastically, his eyebrows rising higher until they disappear under his overgrown fringe. "You sure you aren't going to go and make yourself sick in the bathroom?"

You pretend to be shocked by the idea, widening your eyes animatedly.

"What? No! I wasn't – I just need –"

"Don't lie," Dan cuts you off sharply. "I'm not an idiot."

"I'm _not_ lying. I just need to use the fucking toilet, Dan," you snap, your voice tight.

He narrows his eyes at you, seeing straight through your words. Dammit why can't he just trust you?!

"You won't mind if I come with you then."

You try to laugh mockingly but all that comes out is a humourless choke.

"What, into the toilet with me?" you ask. "That's a bit weird."

"No," he grunts, "I'll wait outside. That way if I hear anything… out of the ordinary, I'll be able to stop it." He tilts his head as he appraises you. "I mean, it's not like you have anything to hide, is it?"

You glare at him for a while, clenching your jaw, your eyes blazing fiery red. You're beyond fuming.

"Dan, why don't you just back the fuck off?" You take one step backwards. "I'm going to the bathroom now before I wet myself all over your fucking floor and I'm going _alone_."

Dan throws his hands in the air in enragement.

"Why would I let you do that?"

"Because you trust me?" you snarl back.

"Why would I trust you when you're being so immature?! You're acting like a suspicious child tonight and I'm sick of it!" he shouts. "I'm either coming or you aren't going."

You stop to stare at him for a second, your lip twitching in ire. All the while in the back of your mind, all you can focus on is a poisonous hiss; _IneedtopurgeIneedtopurgeIneedtofuckingpurge._

Before you can think it through properly, you shove Dan backwards, _hard_, and watch as he stumbles back a few steps – in surprise rather than from the actual impact – then you take off running down the hall, sprinting towards the nearest toilet.

"Hey!" you hear Dan yelp but you ignore him.

Your tangled thoughts form desperate words on your tongue, heavy breaths escaping your lips as you round a corner.

"I need to purge, I need to purge," you choke out.

You hear Dan pursuing you though, and feel a cold sweat break out all over your body. It begins to dawn on you what a stupid idea this was – even if you make it to the bathroom and manage to lock the door, Dan will only break it down. He's impulsive like that.

You scramble down the final gap in the corridor and glance over your shoulder, your heart sinking. Dan may go on about being lazy and unfit but as he's charging towards you with his eyes blazing furious red, every one of his long strides matching two of yours thanks to the height advantage, all you can picture him as is an angry bull; hungry and frantic. He catches up with you half a second later, colliding into you with such force that you're both knocked to the ground. You hit the ground with a thud, a whoosh of air emitting your lips in a sharp breath. You tumble sideways rolling across the carpet; Dan falls on top of you, immediately tackling you as you attempt to clamber to your feet.

"Move!" you spit, attempting to push him off of you.

Dan grunts and ignores you, straddling you and reaching out to grab onto your wrists and pinning your arms at your sides. It takes a while, you let out a cry of frustration, but eventually he forces your flailing limbs down so that you can't move from under him. That doesn't stop you trying though. You kick out and twist and squirm, jabbing your elbows into his ribs and screaming when you can't escape.

"Get off me!" you shriek manically. "Get _off_!"

He tightens his grip, hip fingers overlapping around your skinny wrists. He had looked angry before, beyond furious. But now, seeing you trapped like some kind of caged feral animal, the desperation and horror flashing behind your eyes, he only looks upset for you, his face contorting in pity. He swallows, his eyebrows knitting together and his eyes glistening in fear. He's worried, he's tired, he doesn't know what to do.

But you don't care.

You can't stop yourself from thrashing wildly, crying out until fat, salty tears dribble down your cheeks. Your heart hammers in your chest.

"Dan, let me go!" you screech, your voice cutting like a knife.

He doesn't seem to know what to say as he watches your frenzied eyes, your jerky movements, your horrified tears. It's like your entire body has gone into shut down mode.

"I can't," he says quietly.

_No!_ you scream inwardly. _He doesn't understand!_

"I _have_ to!" you yell. Your voice cracks and splinters from the amount of force you put behind the words. "I fucking _have_ to, you stupid – I have to – I can't just –" you burst into uncontrollable tears, unable to get the words out.

You've never wanted to die so badly in your entire life.


End file.
